


to be drawn to saving him was to be drawn to falling in love

by caramelcaramelcaramel



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Crush at First Sight, Crushes, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting to Know Each Other, Lake-town, Mentions of Drowning, Michelle Jones-centric, No Angst, Not Canon Compliant, Not Spider-Man: Far From Home Compliant, Not Spider-Man: Homecoming Compliant, Older Characters, One Shot, POV Third Person, Protective Michelle Jones, Romantic Fluff, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:07:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24723517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caramelcaramelcaramel/pseuds/caramelcaramelcaramel
Summary: MJ's summer job takes her to her sister's lakeside house.Peter's summer vacation takes him to the lake, floating in the cool water in the morning.Unfortunately, from where MJ is, he looks kind of dead, and she takes it upon herself to rescue him.inspired bythis reddit postfind me on tumblr, twitter, and ko-fihere!title inspired by a pride and prejudice quote
Relationships: Harry Osborn & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Harry Osborn, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45





	to be drawn to saving him was to be drawn to falling in love

“You’ve got mosquito repellent on, right?” Madeline asked.

MJ nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

Madeline rolled her eyes. “I just don’t wanna listen to you complain about being itchy.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” MJ brushed her off, making sure to throw in a half-smile.

She walked out the front door, film camera in hand.

Being at the lake was always the best part of her year. She worked at a bar in town, and lived with her sister for the summer. The woods around the lake house were beautiful, filled with flowers and berries and mushrooms, and MJ had a scrapbook filled with photos she’d taken over the years, documenting some of the wildlife in the woods. She even had a few photos of deer, most of them normal, but one of an albino deer. Every time she went out, she hoped to see it again, but no such luck yet.

Today, though, she was in a good mood. She’d risen with the sun, doing some yoga before she ventured downstairs for breakfast. She was wearing her favourite dress, a mustard yellow piece, and walked through the grass around the lake barefoot, enjoying the feeling of the morning dew beneath her feet.

MJ wasn’t a religious person. But mornings like this? They made her believe in heaven.

She walked around the lake, towards the woods, only half paying attention to her surroundings. Which is why it took her a few minutes to notice the body, floating in the middle of the lake. When she did, she did a double take.

“Hey!” she shouted. “Are you okay?”

Nothing.

She walked towards the pier, calling out again. “Hello?”

Silence.

She put her camera down, and untied her dress, letting it fall off her body, and then dove into the lake.

The cold water shocked her system for a moment. She sputtered to the surface, and then employed the breaststroke she’d learned in her childhood swimming lessons.

It was a large lake, and this body seemed to be dead in the middle of it. She huffed and puffed, wondering if she’d be any use when it came to towing the body back to shore, let alone if she’d have the energy for CPR, if they needed it.

The water seemed to chill her straight down to her bones, and the metal hardware on her bra wasn’t helping. What had been a heavenly morning now was icy cold and exhausted and potentially life or death.

She finally made it out to the middle of the lake, muscles aching. The body – a boy, about her age – was still, eyes closed. Treading water, she lifted a hand to his throat to feel for a pulse, but as she touched his skin, he jerked awake.

“Wha-”

“I’m so sorry, I saw a body floating in the lake, and you didn’t answer when I yelled-”

“I was taking a nap!”

MJ blinked. “I’m sorry, you nap at eight in the morning in the middle of a lake?”

“I- yeah, well, I was up late the other night, and then I slept too much yesterday, and then didn’t sleep overnight, and then I needed a nap!”

MJ stared at him in abject horror. “The water is freezing!”

He shrugged. “It doesn’t really get to me.”

She panted, staring back towards the pier, suddenly very self-conscious and tired.

“Hey, do you want me to swim back with you? You look tired.”

She almost objected, but then remembered all the stats about drowning. “Yeah, okay.”

“Here, I’ll be right behind you.”

So they started swimming back. MJ tried not to think about how embarrassing this whole thing was. Why didn’t she shout louder, or when she was closer? Why didn’t she call someone else? Harry, one of the other bartenders, was a much stronger swimmer. She should’ve called him instead of thinking she could do this on her own. Had the boy needed her help, she probably would’ve drowned trying to get them back to shore.

“Do you need a tow?” he asked. “You look exhausted.”

He was swimming with ease, MJ noted, so despite the fact that she _was_ exhausted, she shook her head, forcing level breaths. “I’m okay.” She would doggy paddle before she admitted defeat.

The boy began to tease her, very lightheartedly, and MJ couldn’t help but laugh along. The whole situation was kind of ridiculous. MJ teased back, making jokes at both her own expense, and his. He laughed them off easily, too.

Maybe it was the morning light, but he was…kind of beautiful. Brown hair, wet curls that fell over his forehead. Deep brown eyes that were sparkly and kind. A smile that seemed to bring all the heavenly-ness back into MJ’s now cold morning. And, god, with all the muscles he was sporting, it was no wonder he was having no trouble swimming.

They got to shore, and he was kind enough to avert his eyes as MJ climbed out of the water and put her dress back on.

So much for that walk through the woods with her camera.

“Hey,” she said, before really thinking about it. “Um, you know the bar in town? The Jones’s?”

He nodded.

“I, um, I work there. So, uh, if you wanna stop by, tonight, first drink is on me. Least I can do.”

He smiled. Her morning got a little brighter.

“Sure. Yeah. Oh, um, I’m Peter.” He stuck a hand out.

She took it. “I’m MJ. Well, Michelle, but most people call me MJ.”

His smile grew. “Nice to meet you, MJ. See you tonight.”

“Yeah.” She smiled back. “See you tonight.”

She picked up her camera, and walked back to the house.

\---

MJ spent a long time in a hot bath, holding _Pride and Prejudice_ open, but not actually reading it. She was daydreaming instead about Peter, and mentally preparing an outfit for work tonight.

MJ’s uncle owned The Jones’s, so she got away without wearing the usual all-black attire most of the employees wore, as long as she wore the apron and a name badge.

Thus, MJ was now obsessing over what to wear.

Back in high school, she’d been much more conservative, opting for more formless clothing, but college had forced her out of her comfort zone a bit, and she gained some appreciation for shorter dresses, cinched in waists, and doing more to her hair than clipping some of it back. She’d forced herself to unlearn the idea that she couldn’t put effort into her looks and be a feminist, and once she had, she liked herself a lot better. Not because she was “prettier”, but because she stopped judging other women for wearing tons of makeup and doing their hair everyday.

It had the unforeseen consequence of her now trying to figure out whether to Dutch braid her hair or just let it be loose and curly.

When the water went cold, she climbed out of the bath and dried off, still only half paying attention to what she was doing. She diffused and dried her hair, fluffing up her curls, only to decide she didn’t care quite enough to fiddle with her hair, and spent some time doing some double Dutch braids while she wondered why she cared so much about the opinion of stranger.

But the thing was, Peter was a _cute_ stranger. A cute, _kind_ stranger. And those didn’t come around often, especially not out here.

MJ had gotten to know everyone out here, and nobody excited her like this. Nobody had this kind of _potential_.

Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but she really thought she saw something in him.

She put on a white blouse and one of Madeline’s plaid skirts (Madeline wouldn’t notice it missing, she never did) and left for work.

When she got to the bar, Harry was there, along with some kitchen staff, going through the opening procedures. She grabbed her apron and name badge from the back, and came back out to the bar.

“Hey, heard you had a little run-in at the lake today,” Harry teased.

“How did you know about that?”

He grinned cheekily. “Peter’s my friend. He’s staying with me for the week.”

MJ groaned. “Fuck. I’m never gonna hear the end of this, am I?”

“Nope.”

“I bet that’s why you’re all dressed up, too,” Harry remarked. “You don’t braid your hair for just anybody.”

When MJ stared at him, Harry just laughed.

“Oh, come on, MJ. Peter’s exactly your type.”

MJ whipped him with her cloth, and then went about opening duties.

The bar opened not long after, some of the regulars trailing in. She poured beers distributed pretzel bowls, finding herself, once again, not fully paying attention. She smiled at the same guys, asked about the wife, the kids, how the old car they were restoring was coming along. Didn’t absorb much of anything. In fact, more than one customer caught her glancing up at the door, waiting for someone, but nobody pointed it out.

MJ got back to the bar, after serving a few drinks.

“Do you know if Peter’s coming by tonight?” she asked, trying to sound as casual as possible. Based on Harry’s shit-eating grin, it didn’t work. She whipped him with the towel again. “Harry, go fuck yourself.”

“I’m not the one with a crush!”

“It’s not a crush!” MJ defended. “It’s an…interest.”

“Yeah, a romantic interest,” Harry retorted, wiggling his eyebrows.

MJ pushed past him, going for a bottle of vodka. “You’re impossible.”

“You’re gonna do shots on the job?”

MJ looked at him, and Harry rolled his eyes. “Fine. One for me, too, then.”

She gave him a smug little smirk, and poured them each shots. They clinked, tapped against the bar, and drank.

Another hour passed, making drinks and conversation, and glancing at the door for the cute boy from the lake.

Some of the regulars were paying their tab and leaving, and Peter still hadn’t even shown up. As MJ printed off receipts and delivered them to the most alcoholic patrons, she began to lose him.

She returned to the bar, wilted.

“Aw, did you get your hopes up?”

She didn’t dignify Harry with an answer, pouring herself another shot instead. She offered one to Harry, but he put a hand up, rejecting it.

“I’m alright, thanks. If Barbara over there sees me take too many shots, she starts laying it on thick, and I really do not need to be fending off my ex-step-aunt today.”

MJ snorted. “Fair enough.” She downed her shot. Normally, she wasn’t one to drink too much on the job. She tended to stick to sipping one cocktail throughout the night. Tonight, though, she figured it couldn’t hurt. Besides, she wasn’t drunk, nor would she be. One shot every hour or two was nothing.

“Mish,” Uncle Dennis called, “Can I get your help back here?”

“Sure.” She put her towel on the hook, and headed into the back office.

Uncle Dennis just needed her more math-savvy eyes to look at some paperwork. She helped him sort out some numbers, jotting figures down on a sticky note as she went, and he thanked her on her way out.

She stopped cold when she left his office. Peter was standing at the bar, chatting with Harry and smiling.

MJ blinked, forcing herself to snap out of it, and went back to the bar. Peter’s face seemed to light up when he saw her approaching. “Hey! I was hoping I’d catch you.”

Pulling the towel off the hook and slinging over her shoulder, MJ offered, “Can I get you that first drink?”

Harry covered MJ’s tables as she was sucked into conversation with Peter. She was hanging onto his every word, and somehow passing it off like she didn’t care at all. It was working on Peter, Harry could tell that much, but it wasn’t working on him. He’d worked alongside her too many summers to fall for her cool attitude.

And Harry hadn’t seen Peter look this enraptured by a girl in ages. There’s been Liz, and Felicia, and even Gwen for a brief stint, but this was different. MJ had hypnotized him somehow.

MJ and Peter stayed there, lost in conversation together, even after the bar closed. It took Harry interrupting the conversation to break the spell they had on each other.

“Hey, dumbasses, it’s three. You might wanna think about getting some sleep.”

Peter laughed nervously, checking his phone. “Shit, you’re right. Um, MJ, can I walk you home?”

MJ smiled.

“I’d like that.”

In the hours they’d spent talking, she’d learned a lot about him. His hate for Trump, his job at Stark Industries, his love for New York, his aunt, his dead uncle, his even deader parents. And with every question he answered, she had two more she wanted to ask him.

Truth be told, she’d never been this interested in another person before. And it’d been a long time since she’d felt butterflies in her stomach like this.

So, as they walked back towards her sister’s lake house, chatting and laughing, she contemplated whether or not to ask him out.

Before she’d made a decision, however, they arrived at the door.

There were moths fluttering around the lamps, and crickets chirping around them.

“Thank you,” Peter said, voice softer now, “I had a really good time with you tonight.”

MJ took a chance. She stepped closer, until they were nose-to-nose, and let her eyes drift shut as she leaned in. He closed the space between them, more eagerly than she was anticipating, and his hands landed on her waist, pulling her firmly towards him.

His mouth was soft and warm, and his touch was comforting rather than intrusive or scary.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, committing to a longer kiss, and tilted her head more to allow for a deeper kiss. He slid his hands across her back, her top riding up a little as he did, and wrapped his arms around her, holding her even closer.

She’d told herself, going into the kiss, that if he rejected her, he was only here for a week. But now, kissing him, heart beating hard as she leaned into him, it felt like a robbery that he was only here for a week.

When they pulled apart, she composed herself quickly.

“Face it, tiger,” she said, teasingly, “you just hit the jackpot.”

And she slipped into the house, leaving Peter to touch his lips, standing outside in the cool night, and think, _Yeah, I did._


End file.
